The bats and the spiders in the witch’s cave took no notice of him, and a wrinkled old toad in the corner merely stared at him for a while and then shut its eyes again and went back to sleep.
Gobbolino was very thirsty. He was hungry too, for he had not eaten since the tasty dinner brought to them in the church by the old priest the day before, but he dared not touch the strange-looking food in the witch’s cooking pan, nor take a drink from the cauldron, for fear of the magic it might hold. Presently, above the snores of the witch, he noticed the steady drip of water not far from him, and saw a tiny spring far above his head, that spattered a drop or so of crystal clear water on to the stones atevery minute.
Very thankfully and carefully Gobbolino moved towards it and held out a grateful tongue to the drops of water. They tasted very cold and sweet. Some of the water had formed a tiny pool in the hollow of a rock, and this he drank too, but very quietly, in case the witch should hear his lapping.
He felt better now, and told himself that at least three hours must have passed since Sootica went away, for the sun had moved quite a distance across the rocks.
Presently he noticed that the witch’s snoring had changed a little. It was no longer so loud and regular as it had been in the early morning, when it had been rather like listening to a clock ticking. Even the short pauses that had frightened him so much had become part of a rhythm that seemed set to go on for ever. But now the snoring became lighter, and rather quicker, as if the witch were dreaming… as if her dreams were disturbing her… as if they were waking her up..
She gave a little shriek… a cough… a hiccup.. and then the snoring stopped altogether.
Gobbolino froze with terror. He was in the darkest, most shadowy corner of the cave, but who could tell how much witches were able to see in the dark?
He listened, hoping that she would settle down and begin to snore again, but meanwhile she was moving, and clearing her throat… yes, and muttering.. the witch was awake Silence fell. Gobbolino could hear her shuffling her feet, and then — horror of horrors! — she was getting up!
[Êàðòèíêà: i_021.jpg]
Gobbolino froze with terror.
He shut his eyes as tightly as possible, so that the gleam in them should not catch her attention, and heard her shuffling across the floor to the doorway.
She stood there for a while, looking out at the morning, but it seemed that the sunshine was not to her liking, for she came back grumbling, and began to move round the cavern looking for her stick.
“Sootica!” she muttered, and then louder, “Sootica! Puss! Puss! Where are you? I’m calling you, Sootica!”
Gobbolino froze.
Perhaps if he did not move she would think her cat had gone outside on to the mountain. She might even fall asleep again, waiting for Sootica to come back.
But the witch did not seem inclined to settle down and go to sleep. She walked round and round the cave grumbling and calling for her cat in a louder and louder voice till Gobbolino cringed with fear. Once she passed so close to him that she scuffed him with her shoe, but she did not know what she had touched.
Gobbolino remembered that his sister had told him that her mistress was getting rather blind.
At last she found her stick, and now the search for Sootica began in earnest, as if the witch knew by instinct that her cat was not far away. The stick went tap tap tap across the floor as she poked and prodded in the corners, and in the holes behind the rocks. Now and then she went to the doorway and yelled Sootica’s name in louder and louder tones, but she always came back into the cave, looking very puzzled and dissatisfied.
Suddenly, as she passed him for the third time, Gobbolino received a painful poke in the ribs from the stick, and at once the witch stopped short.
She poked again, and Gobbolino was forced to move away to avoid the painful prods that seemed likely to crack his ribs if he did not escape from them.
“So there you are!” cried the witch in triumph, hitting out with her stick where she thought he might be. Gobbolino shot out of his corner and took refuge behind the cauldron.
“Lazy good-for-nothing creature!” cried the witch, slashing at the rocks. “Why didn’t you answer when I called you? Afraid I was going to set you to work, were you? Where are you? Come out and show yourself, wherever you are!”
Gobbolino thought it best to obey her, while keeping well out of the way of her stick.
She saw him now, and flung a little clay pot in his direction.
“Go and fetch me some honey, now that you have taken the trouble to show yourself!” she ordered him. “I’m hungry, and I want something sweet. You know where the bees’ nest is. Round the corner between the rocks! Go quickly!”
Gobbolino did as he was told. He snatched up the pot and ran from the cave, glad to be out of her reach, though not at all sure where to find the honey.
Fortunately the bees were busying to and fro, and he had only to watch them to find the hole between the rocks where they had their honeycombs. He could even see the sticky golden honey gleaming inside the cleft, and closing his eyes he bravely plunged his paw inside and filled the pot.
Where a true witch’s cat would have escaped without harm, the bees were quick to set about a mere kitchen cat raiding their store, and Gobbolino had several painful stings on his paw before the pot was full. He was forced to stop and lick it to ease the pain, and it was not until he had given the whole foot a long and comforting wash that he saw to his horror he had licked off the black covering his sister had painted on to hide his white markings.
He did not know what to do, and meanwhile the witch was bellowing at him from the cave, so carrying the pot carefully in his other paw he limped along to serve her.
“That’s better!” the witch said, smacking her lips over the honey. “Now I shall have another little doze. But first you can go and get me a drink of milk from the wild goats. They are just over the crest there. I can hear them. And the pipkin is hanging by the door.”
Gobbolino was only too glad to escape out of her sight. He snatched the milk jug and limped across the rocks to find the goats, who, when they looked up and saw him, knew in a moment that he was not Sootica, and proceeded to tease him and lead him a merry dance from crag to crag.
“Oh, please! Oh, please!” he begged them. “Just a little drop of milk! Not much! Please stop just for one moment and let me fill my little jug! The witch will kill me if you don’t!” sobbed Gobbolino, quite out of breath and at the end of his endurance.
At last one of the goats felt sorry for him and stopped her cavorting.
“Why, you don’t even know how to milk a goat, my poor cat!” it said pityingly. “Don’t they teach you common cats anything at all?”
Gobbolino was ashamed to explain that his paws were swollen with stings from the bees. He did the best he could, and the goat was patient.
Presently the jug was full, but not fast enough to please the witch, who was standing at the mouth of the cave, shrieking at him when at last he arrived with the milk.
“Dawdling and gossiping!” she scolded. “The goats are the worst gossips in the world, next toyou, lazy, good-for-nothing cat! Fetch me a cup and pour me out a drink!. You can keep a drop for yourself, but only a drop, mind!”
She followed Gobbolino back into the cave, where he spent a little time in finding a cup, and took the opportunity of rubbing a fresh coating of dirt over his paw. He was rewarded by a prod in the ribs and a fresh burst of scolding.
Fortunately he was able to pour out the milk with his back turned towards the witch, and he passed it to her with his left paw. He was very grateful to have a good drink himself, and the goat’s milk tasted very good and wholesome. He was just returning to his own corner when the witch called him out again.
“Feel the water in the cauldron, Sootica! Feel if it is getting hot! I want it ready and boiling by nightfall!”